


On The Beach

by unquenchablecoals



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Canon Compliant, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Oneshot, Past Sokka/Yue (Avatar), handwaving the canon timeline because i cant be bothered, how bout that, in which we explore sokkas trauma this time, mostly - Freeform, this is soft atmospheric garbage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26618749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unquenchablecoals/pseuds/unquenchablecoals
Summary: Zuko shook his head in a violent attempt to clear any remnants of adrenaline, and took a few tentative steps towards his friend before halting.“I can sit somewhere else if you came here to be alone,” he felt obliged to offer.Although, now that Sokka was here, he was starting to warm to this invasion of his nightly routine. He recalled how his inner thoughts had been racing around today, stumbling over each other for his attention. Maybe being alone tonight wasn’t so wise.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 191





	On The Beach

On Ember Island, precious days before Sozin’s comet, time dripped like honey, viscous and clear as crystal. 

It was a strange experience for Zuko, who’s life was a whirlwind of experiences and emotions, always coming at him with no warning or possible chance to prepare. This time, he knew what was coming. He could see the tiles falling into place since the Day of Black Sun, every action he took helped build the board, setting him on his self-inflicted trajectory.

Zuko would face Azula. He feared her almost as much as his own father, but despite her distortion and cruelty, she was still Zuko’s little sister. He remembered her when she was too young to walk or speak, before she grew to fill the mould of her abuse, predetermined by forces more powerful than either of the two children. Zuko saw his future confrontation with her, violent as he knew it would be, through the semi-transparent film of those memories. The spirits seemed intent on reminding him of his impending fate by drawing out each microsecond, keeping him hyper-aware of everything he was (and, thanks to time’s cruel and finite nature, was not) doing to prepare himself. 

So, he had fallen into a strict regime to cope. If he was going to live out these (maybe his) last days suspended in moment after painfully clear moment, there was no excuse to willfully let any time go to waste. 

He rose with the sun, as always, and usually got in an hour or two of solo practice before Aang joined him. Back at the Western Air Temple, Zuko had awoken Aang at sunrise to train like a proper firebender, but recent days were taking their toll, and he could tell the young airbender wasn’t sleeping well. No one was.

Between training sessions, Zuko took meals with the group. Eating would often require ignoring bouts of anxiety-induced nausea, but he persisted. A year ago, he wouldn’t have thought twice about skipping meals due to various states of unwellness, but he was different now. He was growing more cognizant of what he needed. Even, or perhaps especially, if it meant contradicting his own broken instincts. 

Occasionally, Toph would commandeer Aang to keep his earthbending sharp. When she did, Zuko would practice his dao blades, or Sokka would find him, and the two would spar. The first time set the tone for what would become their ritual: Zuko would put on a bitchy display, complain the other boy was wasting his time, covertly sizing his opponent for whatever newfangled tactic Sokka was about to test, attempting to catch the firebender off guard. 

Despite the snide remarks, Zuko enjoyed every second of it. Sokka was the closest he had, now or ever, to a normal friend. (Internally, he was still living high on the rush of being able to call the Avatar and his gang his _ friends _ .) Toph was the first to give Zuko a chance, and Aang was the first to trust him, but Sokka was the first to  _ befriend _ him. 

When they sparred, their banter edged frighteningly close to how Zuko assumed normal teenage boys sounded. They would tease and taunt, toss insults, flaunt wins, and follow any other creative impulse to rile each other up. It was nothing like Zuko’s competition with Azula, no. This was playful, harmless, and built on the stable foundation of mutual trust and respect. It came naturally to the other boy, but to Zuko it was novel. 

And It was  _ fun. _ Zuko had the edge as a combatant, his technique polished by years of consistent training, but Sokka held his own through the sheer force of ingenuity. He was constantly innovating, distracting, and subverting every rule the masters drilled into Zuko. Together, they made for a stubborn pair, and matches would often wear them down until they were breathless. Sometimes, after each had been disarmed, they would wrestle until one had the other pinned and called a half-hearted yield. Zuko felt particularly fond of his most recent victory, won via the discovery of an interesting weakness, namely that Sokka was rather ticklish. 

8(Quietly, Zuko latched onto these moments as evidence of inestimable value in support of the outlandish claim that maybe not all hope was lost for him.)

After supper, if Aang had anything left in him, they would continue to train. By then, however, the days were so draining that Zuko kept a watchful eye on the younger boy for telltale signs of failing stamina. He couldn’t save the world if he killed himself preparing for the real thing. Usually the group would retire from their respective grueling days and sit together, chatting among the varying degrees of unspoken tension. 

The last part of Zuko’s routine found him on the beach. 

He would meditate, or he would sit and watch Agni drift beyond the saltwater horizon, drinking in and savouring the short fraction of the day he could spend in his own company. Toph called it brooding.  _ Going off for your nightly brooding session, Sparky? _ (Toph could get away with a lot as far as Zuko was concerned. Neither of them had forgotten about her burnt feet, and although the little earthbender appeared to hold no grudge, Zuko’s gut was obstinate with guilt, and so he let her continue with whatever slander tickled her fancy. )

It would be late, the others already having called it a night. Zuko had trouble sleeping when the stars aligned for him, and his newfound hyper reality made it an impossibility until the later hours had effectively sapped every drop of energy in his reserves. However, without the distraction of social interaction, his late evenings alone simultaneously made up his most treasured and tortuous part of his day. The quiet was pleasant and the air was fresh and cool in the evenings. He could think and breathe in peace without syphoning effort to social context. He was on an excruciatingly gradual path towards getting along with others smoothly, and with every misinterpretation and clarification came another burst of stamina to keep the whole circus running. Being good was emotionally laborious, Zuko had decided, and although he was well past the point of no return without regret, he did grant himself this time alone on the beach, not to be good or bad, just to be.

That was the sticky part of the whole set-up too, regrettably, because while spirits knew the vast distance between Zuko’s past and present selves, there remained a clamorous sum that, in Zuko’s humble opinion, left much to be desired. Being left alone to his own devices always came with the risk for those parts to blather him senseless if he let it take control. Those especially tumultuous nights, when his darker intuitions roamed unchecked and unchallenged, left him indebted to the lateness of the hour, so no one would see him return with eyes splotchy and red. 

The air had a strange calm this particular night as he made his way along the darkening cobblestone path. Agni set late in the summer evening, leaving the surrounding foliage to cling to the last tendrils of dusty gold twilight. Elongated shadows weaved across the earth as it shifted into crisp sand, signalling the nearing shore. 

Zuko had walked these steps the night before, and all those previous during their stay on Ember Island. They hadn’t been here long, but it was enough for his current neurotic state to ingrain the image before it materialized. Enough that, when some infantesimal detail went awry, an  _ unexpected shadow _ , a faint scent intertwined with the salty sea breeze, Zuko reacted instinctively.

_ Someone was on the beach. _

He dropped into a sturdy stance, reached for his blades, and in the adrenaline-induced expansion of time, Zuko pinpointed the source of the disruption. 

Unfortunately, and as Zuko had learned many times over in his short life so far, quelling the body’s response to a perceived threat isn’t nearly as efficient a process as it is to activate them. So, as he rounded the last tree obscuring his view and caught sight of a familiar wolf-tail and silhouetted frame, he froze. 

Because Zuko had been winding down these steps, unravelling the wrappings holding his social self together, completely and utterly unprepared to be confronted with the image of Sokka just...sitting there.

“I can leave if you’ve got this spot reserved for your brooding.”

Zuko’s mind snapped back to reality as he realized he’d been doing nothing but stare blankly at the back of his friend’s head _.  _ His body seemed to finally get the memo that he wasn’t about to fight for his life, and he let his shoulders sag as he drew and released his breath, willing himself unwind, feeling a flood of relief tinged with a healthy dose of embarrassment. 

“No don’t!” he managed to regret his words while he choked them out.  _ Shit. _ “I-I mean, you don’t have to, you’re welcome to stay, I just… wasn’t expecting you.”

Sokka was sitting, relaxed with arms loosely draped over his knees, looking out to what remained of the light on the horizon, warm light coaxing out rosy undertones in his skin.

“Well?” Sokka asked him. ”Are you gonna get to it then?”

“To what?” 

“Brooding, of course.”

“Oh.”

Zuko shook his head in a violent attempt to clear any remnants of adrenaline, and took a few tentative steps towards his friend before halting. “I can sit somewhere else if you came here to be alone,” he felt obliged to offer. Although, now that Sokka was here, he was starting to warm to this invasion of his nightly routine. He recalled how his inner thoughts had been racing around today, stumbling over each other for his attention. Maybe being alone tonight wasn’t so wise.

Sokka finally turned to look over his shoulder. 

“Ah yes, I wanted to be alone. So naturally I came to  _ your _ brooding spot at the time I knew  _ you _ would be here. Brooding.” 

Even in the growing dark, Zuko could detect the brightness in his eyes that always accompanied his friend’s jokes. If there was anything residual from his earlier start, it morphed into irritation. “Stop saying brooding.”

“I will when you stop holding out on me,” Sokka countered, patting a patch of sand to his left. 

Zuko let out an annoyed huff, but took up the place as he was directed, unbuckling his dao sheath from his hip and laying them on the ground within arms reach. He spotted the glint of Sokka’s trusty boomerang in the sand nearby, pleased his friend had similarly not chanced leaving the house unguarded. He sat with his legs crossed, hands in his lap. 

They sat in companionable silence for what must have been a record for Sokka. It was Zuko’s experience that the other boy tended to fill silences rather than sit in them, but it stood to reason everyone needed their moments of peace. It was, after all, the reason Zuko sought refuge here each night. As the moments crept by, however, Zuko found himself reading into it, curious if everything was alright with his friend, and further wondering how to prod him without being weird. Luckily, just as the last flecks of pale orange on the horizon faded solidly into black, Sokka broke the silence.

“It’s a good night to be outside,” he said cryptically, but oddly without the playful lilt which usually indicated an upcoming punchline. Zuko was no genius in reading people, but perhaps he could detect  _ something  _ in Sokka’s voice. An unfamiliar strain, or an undertone out of the ordinary, somber and delicate. He didn’t like it. 

“Why is that?” he asked. 

“Look up,” Sokka answered, nodding his head towards the sky. Zuko followed his gaze, tilting his head back. “Not a cloud in sight. Gonna be a good view of the sky with a bright moon tonight. Katara could sense it.” 

“Oh, pretty,” was Zuko’s lame response. Sokka’s sudden interest in stargazing didn’t surprise him, but he remained suspicious of his tone. “So you came out here… to look at the night sky?”

“Eh, yeah, something like that,” Sokka replied, maddeningly unhelpful. There was definitely something in his tone that was off, something that denoted a missing piece left unspoken.

Zuko wasn’t understanding something. The moon was the source of power for waterbending, much like his own Agni, and therefore held a central position in the Water Tribe. That was surface-level information, however, and served only to leave him frustrated by his own undereducation. He racked his brain for what he knew of Water Tribe spirituality, but dismissed much of what he remembered from his father’s appointed tutors, unsure where the snipits of truth were hiding in amongst what he would now charitably describe as racist propaganda. He’d learned more from his own disastrous visit to the North Pole than anything he’d been told in lectures, and he wasn’t exactly a tourist when he’d been there either. 

Of course, Zuko knew he couldn’t divert all accountability, experience making him bitterly aware of his place as a product of those lessons. Iroh, in his infinite wisdom and goodwill, had attempted to teach him about other cultures during their years at sea, but Zuko was shut to that kind of knowledge. He hadn’t  _ seen the point _ . Not at least until it became a means to achieve his own ends. Involuntarily, Zuko drew a sharp inhale as the phantom traces of his father’s lightning coursed through his system, memory alone enough to prickle the nerves in his fingers and chest. 

“What’s on your mind there, bud?” 

Zuko jumped at the voice to his right. He’d lost himself in thought. The night had grown dark, shifting, without his perception, from the peachy amber of sunset to night’s spectrum of platinum and muted sapphire. The ocean remained calm, broken only by the short waves and the long silver-white streak cast of the waning moon, no longer full but still bright and clear, just as Katara had predicted. Despite sending him down a minor spiral into self-loathing, Zuko found himself agreeing with Sokka’s previous statement. It was a _beautiful_ night to be outside. 

“Nothing,” Zuko said, too late to be entirely convincing. 

“Uh-huh, sure,” came the inevitable sarcastic reply. 

Zuko didn’t elaborate, instead planting his palms behind him and leaning back, fixing his eyes on the ghostly disc beaming down on them, appreciating her ethereal halo and the blue-white sheen it left in its illumination.  _ Her… _

_ Oh.  _

Feeling the blood rush to his head with his sudden and miraculous insight, Zuko knew if Sokka were looking at him, he would look like the idiot he felt. How could he be so dense, so inconsiderate, to forget Sokka’s admission that day in the balloon, that his  _ first girlfriend turned into the- _

“Actually, I…” He began, entirely sure he had no idea how to ask what he wanted, or if he even should. 

His peripheral caught Sokka turning to face him as he spoke, and Zuko returned the look, trying to read his friend’s face for any sign of... _ anything. _ Sokka’s face remained frustratingly unreadable. It made Zuko want to roll his eyes, but he refrained, instead accepting that, despite growing closer to the other boy, he still hadn’t been spontaneously granted the ability to read his mind. He resorted to using his words. 

“I was wondering…” he started again. What if Sokka didn’t want to talk about it? He tried to remind himself that Sokka had pointedly all but  _ asked _ for his company, but that did little to quell the anxious feeling in his gut. He tore his gaze away from the other boy’s impenetrable gaze, returning to the moon overhead. “What was her name, Sokka?”

He felt relief when Sokka’s gaze lifted away from him as he followed Zuko’s eyeline upwards. His voice was clear and melodic and filled with affection when he spoke. 

“Yue.”

_ Yue. _ It was a graceful name. Zuko was glad to know it. “Sokka, I…” he trailed off, grasping for the right words. “I’m sorry… about her. About losing her, I mean… it sounds really-”

“You could say it was  _ rough, buddy _ ,” Sokka interjected. Zuko felt a flush of embarrassment, and shot him an irritated look, which garnered a wide grin and a short chuckle in return. 

“Hey, I’m just teasing you,” he assured. “I mean, what are you  _ supposed _ to say to something like that? And you weren’t wrong, it was rough, it's just that…” it was Sokka’s turn to trail off, his voice dissipating gently into the quiet night air. It was so unlike the usual confidence Zuko had grown accustomed to, he felt shiver ran down his spine. It had gotten colder out, anyway. “I haven’t really talked about it since it… happened.”

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Zuko felt compelled to say. “I didn’t mean to… I was stupid to bring it up. You can forget it if you want.”

“I think I’d like to, though.” Sokka’s eyes drifted from the sky back to Zuko with  _ that look _ he’d seen a few times during their time acquainted. It reminded him that Sokka, while appearing endlessly sarcastic to the untrained eye, could be so intensely genuine, so ferociously sincere that it tore Zuko’s well-crafted propensity for cynicism to shreds. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Um, yeah of course,” Zuko fumbled his words, knowing it was the right response but cognizant enough of the matter’s sensitivity to be thoroughly on edge at the prospect of fucking it up. “Whatever you want to talk about… go for it.”

“Thanks,” Sokka’s smile matched the gratitude of his voice. “You were uh... actually there on the night it happened.”

That certainly came out of left field. “Wait, I was?” 

“Yeah, remember that time you tried to capture Aang at the North Pole?”

Zuko’s insides lurched. He did, hunching inward slightly with uncomfortable recollection. “Yeah, I remember. He was in the Spirit Oasis. I got past Katara initially, but didn’t make it far outside the stronghold. There was a blizzard, you found us and Katara got even with me.”

“Yep,” Sokka confirmed. “And then we dragged your unconscious body back to the city so you wouldn’t freeze to death.” 

“Oh, thanks for that by the way.” 

“Eh, you can thank Aang and his pacifism,” Sokka was quick to add. “I voted to leave you to die.”

For some reason, that brought a short chuckle to Zuko’s lips. “That’s also fair.” 

Thankfully, Sokka seemed amused at the memory as well. “Hindsight ‘n all that, y’know?” 

“Mhm.”

Finding something in his fingernails to pick, Sokka’s face returned to contemplation. Zuko waited patiently in the silence for his friend to continue, and used the time to review the scattered images fresh in his mind. He’d awoken on Appa’s saddle, clumsily bound and disoriented. Thanks to the other kid’s inexperience taking hostages, he was able to free himself and use Zhao’s distraction to sneak off. He hadn’t stuck around to see what the new admiral was up to, but he did remember the moon above transmuting from blood red to silver, before disappearing entirely, shrouding the world into bleak emptiness. 

When Sokka was ready, it came out all at once.

“It was Zhao. He killed the moon spirit and the night went dark. Tui was dead. Yue sacrificed her life to return it’s energy to the world.” 

Zuko felt sick to his stomach. He had his own grievances with Zhao, the man had even earnestly tried to kill him on multiple occasions, but it all faded into the petty back and forths of misguided men when positioned next to killing an ancient spirit. Regret mixed with confusion, Zuko wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t have done what Zhao did, back when he had been a blind agent of Ozai’s militant will. He shook his racing thoughts from his mind, reaching out a hand to place gently on Sokka’s shoulder. His friend had gone deathly still, staring blankly ahead. 

“It’s just so unfair.” Sokka’s voice was cracking despite being barely more than a whisper. If there had been any wind aside from the faint swell of the ocean, Zuko may not have been able to hear him at all. “She was so good. She thought of nothing but her people and her duty to them, and all she got in return was her freedom stripped away and a loveless future to an undeserving  _ jerk _ and she didn’t even get the chance to do  _ that.” _

With that, he stopped abruptly, finally letting his breath catch up to him in ragged draws. Sokka drew his arms inward, pulling his knees closer to his chest. His breathing grew louder, and his feet were curling in their shoes, toes digging softly into the white, moon-lit sand. 

Zuko’s gut clenched as if he’d been kicked. He’d seen Sokka in distress before, watched him struggle, but this was something else. Zuko didn’t know how to proceed, but he could tell Sokka had more on his mind, and wanted him to continue, to release what was eating away at him from the inside. 

“It sounds like you loved her a lot,” Zuko said, honestly. 

Sokka let out an unholy sound. In theory, Zuko recognized the barking laugh that it was, but finched how its hollow and joyless tone echoed in the space between them. He hated it, and hated himself for causing it. 

“I barely  _ knew _ her,” Sokka spat. Zuko tensed at his sudden hostility, withdrew his hand previously still resting on Sokka’s shoulder and looked away from his friend, to the ground, ashamed. 

“I’m sorry,” Zuko apologized softly and automatically. 

“No, don’t…” Sokka backpedaled. Maybe the younger boy could sense Zuko’s shift in body language, or maybe he, unlike Zuko, simply didn’t have enough anger inside to sustain him for long. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Zuko’s breath hitched at his words, the relief flooding his system allowing him to look back at his friend, seated next to him, so close. “You’re right, again. I did love her, I loved her a lot. I only knew her for a few days, but it was enough,” his voice returned to softness while he looked at his arms. He took another deep, steadying breath.

“That's just the way I am,” it was an admission, if not to Zuko, then to himself. “The way I’ve always been,I fall for people hard and fast and sometimes it fucking hurts.”

Zuko didn’t know how to respond. He was still struggling to comprehend why Sokka was even telling him all this. His only logical reasoning was that Zuko was simply the best option available. He was closer to Sokka in age than Aang or Toph, and maybe Suki was an uncomfortable person to talk to about a lost ex-girlfriend due to their current involvement. As for Katara...

He thought of Katara, and their recent excursion to the Southern Raiders. He remembered her face alight with rage as she spat venom at her brother, all for not sharing her vengeful impulses. She was upset and she was irrational, but Zuko found empathy for her. He did even when she crossed the line and doubted Sokka’s love for their own mother. He understood what it was like to be so filled with rage and pain that it boiled over, infecting everything in the vicinity that challenged it. He had the same urges, to redirect his hurt, as if doling out some fraction of it to others might ease the sting. It never did, but it came from his expressive nature, and his inability to keep his emotions inside him. 

In that way, Zuko and Katara were eerily similar. It was part of why she took the longest to trust him, and how he knew how to earn her forgiveness. But Sokka… 

Sokka was willing to put his life in a traitor’s hands after barely any time at all. He could have been double-crossed at every turn at Boiling Rock, but Sokka chose to trust him. They’d fallen into a rhythm, natural and effortless, and Zuko was able to prove himself loyal only because he was given the chance.

Sokka loved their mother just as fervently and missed her just as desperately as Katara. He dealt differently. He dealt  _ internally _ , keeping a strong face and a cheery attitude for those around him. Zuko had grown to admire it, he’d even caught himself on more than one occasion feeling envious of it. 

Seeing Sokka tonight, Zuko was forced to face the magnitude of his own stunted emotional growth. He was raised to expect hostility. It left him preoccupied by battles raging inside and out, that he never learned to regard the experience of others. How could he, when his own emotions had always demanded his each and every second? He’d been so consumed by hurt and neglect he allowed himself to be led on a wild goose chase, doing unspeakable things for the flickering hope he might earn his father’s love. He’d been so desperate for Mai’s affection he stumbled over himself to make her happy without knowing the first thing about what  _ she actually wanted. _

It’s funny, Zuko thought wryly to himself, how he could feel so shattered by realizing something so obvious. Like the final strike that slices a slab of stone, like he’d known it for years, but was just out of reach, too deeply buried under his damages. By now, Zuko was almost getting used to semi-regular, soul crushing psychological breakthroughs, but that didn’t make them any less exhausting. 

Even now, he was getting preoccupied by himself, when  _ his friend _ was sitting right next to him desperately needing  _ something _ that Zuko had no idea how to give. Whatever Sokka needed, he would find it, he  _ wanted to know _ it, to understand how the other boy was feeling and close the gap between them. 

“Sokka…” he began, directionless but not without purpose. “I don’t know how to…” he trailed off, shame swallowing his attempts to express himself.  _ I don’t know how to comfort you, my friend _ . He looked at Sokka and took in his eyes, heavy with nostalgia, grief, and something else, something Zuko still couldn’t identify. He let out the breath he was holding. 

“Would you like a hug?” he finally offered. 

To his surprise and infinite relief, Sokka smiled warmly.

“Yeah, buddy,” he said, his voice thick with what sounded suspiciously akin to affection. “A hug would be really nice.”

“Okay.”

Zuko sent a quick prayer to whatever spirits may be listening. It was worth a shot. 

Tentative, he turned towards Sokka, reaching out first with his right arm, curling around his friends shoulders, then proceeding to do the same with his left. It was awkward, if only for the virtue that they were still mostly sitting side by side, a few inches apart. Additionally, Sokka was clearly letting Zuko lead which, in his eternally self-deprecating opinion, had to account for a decent amount of the tension. He eventually shuffled, though, scooting across the sand closer to Zuko so they pressed at the side. What seemed to be the last straw for Zuko’s brain, however, was when Sokka gently leaned his head over to rest on his shoulder. He prayed again, this time to Agni, that he had not flinched at the contact like he sometimes did.

“Thank you, Zuko.” 

Sokka’s voice came as electricity through Zuko’s body. He let a gentle squeeze be his non-verbal reply, letting Sokka pull away and upright afterwards. 

Zuko was left with a conundrum. Should he move away, to reestablish the distance they previously occupied before their hug? Sokka was burning a hole on the side of Zuko’s arm where contact between them remained. The other boy wasn’t moving, and Zuko quickly decided he wasn’t going to take that initiative.

Zuko looked down at his hands, noting the chill in his arms and chest, bereaving the lost warmth. He placed one palm behind him on the sand for support. Sokka still wrapped around his drawn knees. They were comfortable like this. 

“I never really knew what to do,” Sokka admitted. “I never knew how to...”He returned his gaze to the sky, eyes glowing blue-white under the ghostly illumination above. “How do you grieve... How do you let go of someone... who hasn’t really died?” 

Zuko had no idea, but his intuition, if it was to be trusted, told him Sokka wasn’t expecting an answer. There wasn’t one, it was just another cruel junction of circumstances forced on an undeserving kid as result of a pointless war.

Sokka shifted, finally letting go of his knees, spreading his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankle, and resting back on his palms like Zuko. He looked different from before, lighter, as if some oppressive weight had been lifted, returning his freedom of movement and expression.

“I think that’s why I’m here though,” he said, more confidently than Zuko had heard from him all night. As a return to form, it rang like music to his ears. “To see her and say goodbye. I’m going to love her forever, but I think I’m ready to move on.”

"Oh?" Zuko couldn’t help but sound surprised. Sokka raised eyebrows. "I just thought… you and Suki were..?" 

Eyes widening, Sokka let out a chuckle of understanding. "Oh, no. I love Suki, and I can see why you would think that, but we're just friends."

"Oh."

"Yeah." 

"My bad." 

"Don't worry about it, buddy."

Zuko cleared his throat, suddenly running dry. So he’d read too much into Sokka’s relationship with Suki, so what? Zuko was oblivious at the best of times. Still, Sokka was  _ his friend _ , and friends should pick up on this kind of thing, right?

_ His friend. _

His friend that came here to hang out with him. His friend who intentionally and of his own violation bared his soul to him. His friend who accepted Zuko's awkward attempts at comfort without seeming annoyed or put off. His friend who was ready to move on from someone he'd loved and lost.

His friend who suddenly  _ wasn't involved with Suki. _

Zuko strained to fit all the pieces together in a way that made sense, and found himself flushing red.

_ Idiot _ .  _ No. That's not it. No way. Nope. He came here to say goodbye and you're here for emotional support. You’re getting distracted again, you’re being a bad friend. _

He had to say something, self conscious of every word coming out of his mouth. "Well I’m… I’m sure Yue would want you to move on… I’m sure she would be happy for you." 

Sokka was looking (staring) at him again, that same unreadable expression returning to his face.

"Yeah, I think you're right." 

_ Shitshitshitshit _

Zuko’s pulse, hammering into his eardrums, drowned the nearby swell of ocean waves.

He saw his friend under the moonlight. It was breathtaking, how it caressed, in stark difference from the sun, on his exposed skin, drawing out blues and purples in the brown, his collar, cheeks, and the tip of his nose gleaming with silver luminosity. 

Their eyes locked, he couldn't look away if he tried, although he was terrified of what would happen if he did. It didn’t matter, he was too distracted by a myriad of details he’d only just begun to notice. Like the playful little shadows cast from Sokka’s eyelashes, or the gentle curve where Sokka’s jawline met his ear, or how Sokka’s lips were parted ever so slightly, just close enough to feel the touch of each breath. The sand under Zuko’s hands was growing warm, but at this moment he had only one thought running rampant in his mind.

_ If _ this was what Sokka wanted, Zuko would have to be a madman not to give it to him. 

“Zuko.”

“Mhm…?” His tongue was thick, he couldn’t think, much less answer his friend.

“Zuko,” Sokka repeated, quieter and without a single touch of irritation. 

“...What?” Zuko all but choked out, perhaps a bit harsher than intended, but he was flustered, damnit.

“Zuko, I think I like you, do you...know what I mean?”

_ ShitfuckshitfuckshitfuckfuckFUCK _

Each nerve in Zuko’s body yanked taut, his mind was screaming every profanity in his vocabulary simultaneously. Sokka just looked at him patiently, eyelids relaxed but his brow raised in anticipation.  _ This bastard _ , did he  _ know _ what he was doing to Zuko? His brain was going to spontaneously combust, killing him instantly any minute now.  _ ‘Do you know what I mean…?’  _

_ Don’t I, friend? _

If Zuko hadn’t been in such distress, he might not have done it. Seconds after this precise moment, the only thing available for recollection was the  _ need _ to alleviate the stranglehold of suffocating tension. 

_ Fuck it. _

Zuko closed his eyes, and leaned in. He had been staring at his friend long enough to know where to find him in the dark. 

It was soft and chaste. Sokka was cool to the touch, returning only the faint pressure Zuko led with and no more. 

After only a moment, they softly parted. Zuko tempted fate and let his eyes flutter open, meeting Sokka's gaze as a thousand silent questions rioted inside him unsaid.

_ Was that okay? Was this what you wanted? Did I understand you, did I overstep, did I fuck up, again? Did you like it? As much as I did? Do you want to kiss me again, my friend? _

As if to intentionally compound Zuko's continuing bewilderment, Sokka smiled widely, understanding him in an instant and responding in kind, by forgoing words and leaning in to kiss him again, faster and harder.

Whatever precarious semblance of self Zuko still commanded stood no chance, and was predictably vanquished, leaving behind only radiating heat in its wake. His heart raged against his chest, the violent thrumming filling his ears cut through only by the tantalizing sound Sokka's soft sighs and their lips together. He was breathing fast. Sokka seemed to find it encouraging, reaching up with sand-dusted fingers to trace his burning cheek. 

Sokka broke the kiss, drawing in a gasping breath, looking at Zuko, lidded eyes growing wider with something unexpected, brow creasing with... concern?

“Hey man, you alright?”

Strangely, Sokka’s voice echoed as if coming to him from a distance, in a muffled cave somewhere, and not a handspan away. It was also getting harder for Zuko to focus on his face, but to be fair, they were sitting on an unlit beach well past sundown. 

“...Yeah…?” Zuko was confused, was he supposed to be asking a question or answering one?

“Okay, ‘cause it kinda looks like you're freaking out a bit.”

_ What? _

Zuko attempted to take stock. He  _ was _ breathing too hard and too quickly, his heart beating too fast and too loud. He reached up to rub his face with the back of his hand and nearly yelped, wincing away. His hand was burning hot. 

“Shit.”

“Zuko, what’s-” Sokka reached out to place a hand on Zuko's shoulder, startling him so bad he flinched violently away.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Sokka was saying, giving Zuko ammunition to add guilt to the list of things currently overloading him. 

"I'm fine!" Zuko all but shouted between breaths. He was not fine. He was definitely freaking out. And burning up. "Im sorry, I'm fine, I'm- I just need a minute, I need…"

He shot upwards and shoved the ground beneath his feet away. He stood there for a moment, swaying through the headrush and dizziness, eventually deciding that he was, in fact, not going to fall over immediately. Taking this as a symbol of goodwill from the spirits, Zuko somehow found clumsy footing in the shifting sand, making his way forward. It felt like he was swimming through air for all the effort it took to reach the shoreline.

Falling first to his knees, then to his palms, Zuko hit the cold water, sending a shock to his wrists. It helped, but the heat continued to spread, and soon it was enough to elicit a few twisting plumes of steam.

Somewhere in the cacophony, Zuko found the voice, focused, and let it fill his mind.

_ Calm yourself, nephew. Remember to breathe properly, in through your nose, out through your mouth. Even the dragons practiced proper breathing, how did you think they called such impressive flames? _

He knew it was finally working when his fingertips had the blessed chance to tingle with icy numbness, cooling the blood in his veins, migrating soothingly up his arms and to his overreacting heart. When he judged his hands had sufficiently cooled from their previous weaponized state, he brought them up to splash his face, relishing in the cold sensation on his inflamed cheeks. 

His pants were soaked from the knee down, and eventually Zuko felt normal enough to be irritated by it. He also felt stupid and fragile and humiliated. 

When he felt more or less stable, he flicked his hands dry and combed the clinging hairs away from his face. Summoning one, two, three more deep breaths, he stood. 

He braced himself before turning around. 

Sokka was standing too, and had split the difference between Zuko and where they both sat just moments ago. He gave a little concerned smile and a tentative wave that Zuko found outlandishly adorable.

Zuko had been dreading facing Sokka after his display and the swirling anxiety and embarrassment in his gut wasn’t about to just vanish. He was certain he was about to start crying, throw up, or pass out, if not some clever, never before seen combination of the three. He did not expect to start laughing.

Maybe it was related to how Sokka just stood there patiently, wearing his affection and worry plainly for the entire deserted beach to witness. He didn’t get any closer, but he didn’t walk away either. He was waiting for Zuko to drift back to him when he was ready. It was okay, Zuko realized, Sokka  _ knew _ him, they were friends, and suddenly he couldn’t find it within himself to be humiliated, which was its own revolutionary experience in its own right. So the tightness redirected itself, escaping Zuko’s body by taking laughter’s shape.

“Hey,” he managed between subsiding giggles, scratching the back of his neck meekly.

“Hey there, buddy,” Sokka replied, allowing an unsure smile to match Zuko’s sudden mirth although his brow remained creased. He looked unconvinced Zuko hadn’t finally lost it. “Are you... okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m…” Zuko collected himself, fidgeting with his sleeves, averting his gaze, fully aware that he couldn’t stop smiling. “I guess I got a little worked up there.”

“You’re telling me,” Sokka seemed to accept his answer, his tone still tentative but allowing his signature playfulness to make a return. “It’s okay though, I’m known to have that effect on people.”

Zuko shot him a pissy look, but wasn’t sure how well it landed through his persistent grinning. He set to work testing his legs with a few steps in Sokka’s direction. 

“In all seriousness, Zuko,” it was Sokka’s turn to fidget and scratch. “We don’t have to do this, or anything, if you don’t want to. I totally get it if you don’t feel the same way, or even if you do and just don’t want to-.”

“Sokka,” Zuko interrupted, having paused an arm’s reach away. He took a breath before closing the distance. Utilizing his newly regained presence of mind, he double checked that his hands had fully dried before grabbing Sokka’s and holding them between their bodies. His eyes alternated between the other boy’s face, and down at their entwined fingers when that became too much, while he searched for words. “I was enjoying it, but I guess touching can be... a lot for me, sometimes. I got overwhelmed. I wasn’t exactly expecting… you know, this.” 

It was Sokka’s turn to laugh, this time in surprise. 

“Really?” was his confounding response. 

“Um...no?” Zuko replied, perplexed. 

“Oh, I see, uh…” Sokka trailed off. The light was dim, but Zuko noticed the faint blush darken the other boy’s cheeks and nose, mildly horrifying him. 

“Wait, Sokka, are you saying-” he spluttered. “Have we been…  _ flirting _ ?”

“Well, I thought so!” Sokka burst. “Of course, now I’m not so sure...”

Zuko scoffed. “I had no idea.”

“Dude, yesterday you were  _ tickling _ me for crying out loud.”

“I was fighting dirty!”

“You certainly were.”

Zuko scoffed, pissed he walked right into that one. “Well, you’re not going to make it very far on the battlefield if you get distracted by every opponent who uses unorthodox tactics.” he retorted.

Sokka chuckled, running his thumb over Zuko’s knuckles. “Not every one, just the pretty ones.”

Zuko growled, annoyed threefold. Firstly, the comment enraged him on principle alone. Secondly, its existence provided irrefutable evidence that they had, in fact, been flirting for Agni knows how long and Zuko had just been too dense to see it. Finally, he was infuriated by how the compliment sent a tingling rush up his arms and the back of his neck.  _ Just the pretty ones, fuck you. _

“Whatever, I still won the fight,” he huffed, words entirely absent of bite, betraying how much the silly compliment had pleased him. He knew the damage was done when Sokka let go of his left hand to reach up and cup his cheek, thumb skirting gently at the edge of his scar. 

“Whatever you say, Prince Prettypants.”

Sokka knew how to tow the line between making Zuko want to kiss him and strangle him. In the end, he settled for leaning into the touch, letting his eyes drift to a close. He steeled himself before speaking. “I do like you, Sokka. I’m sorry it took me so long to see it, even though it was right there in front of me.”

“It’s okay, really-”

“No, it’s not,” Zuko interrupted him, using his now free left hand to loop around Sokka’s waist, pulling them closer. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against Sokka’s. Touch could be a lot, but right now it was what he needed. “It’s my damned country and it’s backward fucking culture, it…” Zuko paused for breath, taking a moment to control his anger. “You know this kind of thing is illegal here, right?” 

“Yeah, I kinda picked up on that,” Sokka replied softly. 

“It fucks you up from the inside out,” Zuko’s voice strained under the pressure of keeping his anger in check. “I’ve always been confused...there were rumours about me before I was old enough to understand them. I never even  _ did _ anything, I was always so desperate to prove I wasn’t...” Sokka was holding him back, squeezing him tightly, centering and cooling him, reminding him to breath. 

With a searing pang, Zuko thought of Mai. She had always been kind to him and he repaid her by using her feelings to reinforce his own charade. He wasn’t even doing it to appear correct in his father’s eyes, he was doing it to convince  _ himself _ . He owed her a hundred apologies. 

Another breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth. Just like the dragons. 

He reached up, curing his right hand around the back of Sokka’s neck, finding his resolution again. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said firmly. “I decided I was done chasing their bullshit when I left, this is no different. I want-” Zuko cut off his own words, pressing their lips together, passion flowing unabated, but this time without the feverish turbulence, breaking only to whisper softly between kisses. “I want to be with you, Sokka, it’s all I want-” 

“Me too,” Sokka whispered his assurance similarly between sloppy, desirous kisses. “Fuck me, I’m so happy… I was so worried you didn’t-.”

“-I do, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

“Shut up, stop apologizing.”

“Sorry.”

_ “Zuko.” _

“Shit.”

They found each other nestled into the others necks, holding tightly. Zuko’s hands on Sokka’s shoulder and around his waist, fingers pressing as hard as they dared. Sokka’s arm returned the pressure around Zuko, the other was holding the back of his head firmly, fingers entangled in inky hair. 

Zuko lost all sense of time and place. Here on the beach, wrapped so tenderly in Sokka’s arms, he may as well have been in the busiest market in Caldera for all he could bring himself to care.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, thanks for reading. 
> 
> This is my first (published) attempt at fic since uhhhhh... 2011. I forgot how much fun this could be :')
> 
> No idea how long the gaang are on Ember Island towards the end of the show, didn't bother to figure it out. Kinda feel like this fic implies a longer stay than in the canon but... eh. 
> 
> Elaboration on Suki: I'm taking the liberties that she and Sokka never had their romantic reunion in The Serpent's Pass. For the purposes of this fic, Sokka hadn't yet been emotionally ready to be with someone after he lost Yue, but they become bffs and love each other very much. She's the first person Sokka comes out to, and shes like "its chill bruh im bi too". She all but begs Sokka to go shoot his shot with Zuko once their sparring flirtations reach the level of tickling. 
> 
> Anyway... thanks for consuming my 7k words of nonsense. Leave me a comment and tell me what you liked? Love you.


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